


The Lonely Fortune Tellers Club

by petaldancing



Category: Persona 5
Genre: F/F, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 12:39:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12365982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petaldancing/pseuds/petaldancing
Summary: Tae gets a receptionist. Chihaya finds happiness again. — Chihaya, Tae, from spring to winter.





	The Lonely Fortune Tellers Club

**Author's Note:**

> I blame this on meg (strikinglight) for enabling me on twitter and leading me to start thinking about how tae/chihaya could theoretically work Very Well and also Very Sadly and Very Wonderfully. Thank you to aq (toska) and gwen (satelittes) for being amazing, amazing betas! 
> 
> This fic assumes maxed confidant links w both Tae & Chihaya, post-canon. More obvious spoilers for Chihaya's confidant if you haven't maxed it yet! Please enjoy!

**1\. spring  
**  
Did discount sushi always taste so bland?  
  
She’d closed shop earlier today just so she could snatch a tray of sushi from the supermarket before the evening crunch. Today’s takeout meal feels more lacking than usual, but Chihaya knows she can’t complain, not when she has to scrimp and save every yen she has. She’d finally managed to return all the money for the Holy Stones to her clients just last week. Though she doesn’t have much left in the way of savings now, her heart feels fuller than it has been in months.  
  
She puts her train of thought on pause to peel a splinter off the disposable wooden chopsticks.  
  
Her fortune-telling has been slowing down too, with only her most loyal customers still insisting on sitting down with her at least once a week for a reading. She thinks that this is actually a good thing. It means that people are now more willing to find direction in themselves, instead of looking to the cards for help. Maybe this is a sign for her to sell off all the reference books she’d bought in a frenzied effort to give better advice to her clients.  
  
The books are taking up an awful lot of space in her one-room apartment. She’s been stacking them along the limited space between her bed and the genkan. If she sells half of her library, she’ll probably be able to pay this month’s rent. She makes a vague mental note to sort through the books when she’s feeling up for it.  
  
As Chihaya finishes up the last of the sushi, she leans her back to the edge of her bed and rests her head against the covers. Her apartment is so small that her legs outstretched take up more than half the space between the bed and the bare white wall across. It would be nice if she could afford a tiny television. All she has is a secondhand coffee table and a potted bamboo plant, Take-chan, who she loves dearly. Perhaps this would feel more like home if she spruced up the place a bit more: a tiny IKEA shelf for the books she wants to keep, a quaint rattan chair by the window for her to do her knitting, more friends for Take-chan.  
  
It still feels wrong for her to want things. She wonders if she deserves them, after all that’s happened, and knows that she could never ask the cards such a ridiculous question. You aren’t supposed to ask what you already know.  
  
Chihaya lifts her head off the bed and sighs in defeat. The sun is only just setting, and she catches the soft scent of the breeze through the open window. Spring has arrived. The trees are flowering. So, why does it feel like she’s hit a dead end?  
  
“No,” she tells herself, voice cracking through the silence. Chihaya sits upright, remembering the promise she’d made. “I’m the only one who can change my fate.”  
  
She needs to find something else to do if she wants to eke out a living in Tokyo. If the big city is going to make her squirm, she’ll squirm her hardest before even thinking of moving back to the countryside. She’s been putting it off for the past few days, but the taste of sticky, flavourless sushi in her mouth is the final straw.  
  
She clears her dinner away and lays her faithful tarot cards out on the table. The motion of shuffling the cards calms her, reminds her with certainty that whatever the future has in store, she'll be ready.  
  
“Alright. Which spread should we go for…?”  
  
Chihaya doesn’t want to go all out, especially if all she's doing is finding out where to go next. She settles for the success spread, drawing out five cards. She lays three of them in a row, and then a card above and below the one on the extreme left. Chihaya prefers using this spread to help her clients identify the obstacles in their life, and how to overcome them.  
  
The cards reveal themselves to her one after the other, each one confirming what she already knows. It’s the last card that she can’t quite predict before she flips it over.  
  
_Death._  
  
Chihaya slumps her shoulders, unamused. Normally, when new customers see the card, they’re understandably spooked. In truth, Death is hardly ever literal. She’s inclined towards the reading that it means the end of the road, but that wouldn’t be very helpful, would it?  
  
“I already know that,” she tells the cards, then bites her lip as she reconsiders their message.  
  
The answer probably isn’t Death itself, but something associated with the card.  
  
“… Akira?” The name comes to her without a second thought.  
  
She remembers a warm summer’s night, a boy with messy hair who hid his eyes behind glasses, and a crystal clear reading that foretold wealth but also ruin. She’d never seen someone’s fate throw her cards into such disarray before, and yet, he’d changed that before the year had drawn to a close.  
  
Chihaya has never doubted her sight, but she also knows that the answer isn’t Akira. He’s still a high-schooler, and one that has already moved back home. She’s started to miss him already. Chihaya always had a habit of growing attached to anyone so long as they were kind to her. Even a powerful psychic can have a weak heart. The thought scares her, but it’s also a reminder that she is, despite everything, still human.  
  
Chihaya slaps her cheeks lightly to refocus her thoughts. The cards are probably pointing her to a place bonded closely with Akira. Unplugging her handphone from its charging cable, she scrolls through her old email messages with him. Before he’d left, he sent her a text, telling her to visit this place should she ever want a change of pace.  
  
“Yes, this must be it!”  
  
She takes the chance to scan through her appointments, making sure she has no clients scheduled for the rest of the night, before grabbing her handbag and hurrying out the door.

☽

The bell overhead jingles as Chihaya steps into the café and is enveloped by the smell of coffee and wood. The only other patrons here are a couple whispering to each other, and a young student huddled with her laptop in one corner. The girl sits with both her legs drawn up to the seat, ignoring the crumples in her school uniform.  
  
“Good evening,” the man behind the counter greets her with a practiced smile.  
  
Chihaya dips her head as she slips into the seat in front of him, next to the telephone. “Good evening.”  
  
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before. What can I get you?” The man hands her a floppy drinks menu.  
  
Chihaya notes that they serve curry here, and wishes that she hadn’t had such an early dinner. She settles for a consolatory cup of Earl Grey tea instead. The man introduces himself as Sojiro, and she gives her own name to him to be polite.  
  
“So, what brings you here?” Sojiro asks after he serves her a warm cup of tea.  
  
Chihaya wants to say ‘fate.’ Instead, she says, “A friend’s recommendation.”  
  
“Really now?” Sojiro starts, but before he can press further, the cafe door swings open with force. As pale hands brace against the counter, Chihaya’s finds herself immediately drawn to the woman’s eyes, and the dark shade of eyeshadow she’s pulling off.  
  
“I need a cup of coffee to go, pronto. Give me an extra shot while you’re at it.”  
  
Sojiro arches an eyebrow. “Hey, we aren’t Starbucks, you know.”  
  
The woman doesn’t say anything in response. She just stares at him. Hard.  
  
“Extra shot, got it,” Sojiro gives in, rubbing the back of his neck as he sidesteps to the coffee machine. “What’s got you all in a hurry anyway, Doctor?”

Chihaya wouldn’t have guessed that she was a doctor. She takes a sip of tea before easing back in her high chair, sneaking a side glance at the woman.  
  
“How many times have I told you not to call me that? And it’s been a busy day at the clinic. Didn’t expect so many to come down with hay fever this spring. I’ve closed it for ten minutes, but there was already a line outside. It’s easy to say no to grown men, but when you see children…” The woman shakes her head. “Anyway, I need this or I won’t be able to get through the evening shift.”  
  
Chihaya feels a faint tug, somewhere between her heart and her gut, and wonders if the wheels of fate are turning.  
  
“… Do you need help?”  
  
Chihaya has grown so used to advising clients, she isn’t quite prepared to look straight into the eyes of someone who never asked for help to begin with. The woman’s disbelief feels like a sharp prick against her skin, and she snaps her gaze back down to her lap.

“Sorry to ask so suddenly!” Chihaya starts, her palms hot as she kneads her hands together. “I-I mean, I’m free right now, and if you need help just dispensing medicine or keeping track of patients, I could do that. I helped out at the Nurse’s Office in high school.” Back then, she’d already gotten a bad rep for her predictions, and found it hard to join school clubs. Chihaya had settled for volunteering at the Nurse’s Office in a vain attempt to prove to her schoolmates that she could do good. It had never really worked out, and had only worsened when rumours began kindling, about how people who wound up in the sick bay were cursed by her.

Maybe that isn't such a good example to bring up.

“That’s not relevant experience at all,” the doctor says. Her words are sharp, but strangely, she doesn’t sound put off. “…Thank you for the offer, though,” she murmurs, and slides her eyes to the painting hanging on the wall next to her. She doesn’t say anything after that.

Before the silence can push them apart, Chihaya stands up and closes the distance between them. The woman is unflinching. She holds her ground and Chihaya already wishes she could be more like her, and knows that fate is onto something.

“I have the rest of the night free, and I really do want to help,” Chihaya begins. “I’m very good at listening!” she adds triumphantly, leaning on the balls of her feet.  
  
The expression on the woman’s face doesn’t shift. She runs a hand through her short hair before asking, “How would you deal with a line of people you can’t fit into your clinic?”

“I’d send the patients who stay in the area home to wait first, and give them a call when their turn is coming!” Chihaya suggests, glad to have experience dealing with long queues, back when she’d been popular. “If it’s just keeping track of the patients, I’m sure I could help with that.”

“Hm.” The woman makes a thoughtful noise. She gives Chihaya a furtive once-over.

Before Chihaya can feel self-conscious, Sojiro slides a tall mug of freshly brewed coffee over the counter. “Here you go. Extra shot as requested. I don’t have takeaway cups so just return it tomorrow morning or something.” He throws a mismatched plastic lid on the mug to keep the coffee from spilling.

The woman grabs her drink without delay and turns to leave. Chihaya feels a pull again, only this time, it’s a frantic sort of jerk which makes her fingernails press into her palms. She takes a breath, tells herself that maybe fate is just knowing when to say the right thing, only to realise that she’s run of out of words.

But as the doctor opens the door and the bell rings, she throws a glance over her shoulder. 

“My clinic’s just down the street.”

☽

 

The Takemi Medical Clinic is housed in a compact space, with only eight seats on either side of the waiting room and one doctor’s office. Fortunately, the front counter is larger than the foldable table Chihaya is used to. She finds quiet enjoyment in being able to splay out her arms on either side.

The medicine cabinet looms behind her, but she gets the hang of it after Takemi comes out the first few times to show her how to navigate the shelves and the tightly packed bottles. All she needs to do is to write the date of issue and the patient’s name in their records. Then, double-check the dosage against Takemi’s scribbles on the doctor’s note. In truth, it’s all rather straightforward. When she does readings, each card can hold multiple, diverging meanings that she has to convey to the person sitting opposite her.

Today, she just has to dispense medicines. That would be enough to give peace of mind to the person standing on the other side of the counter.

After waving goodbye to the last customer of the night, she checks her handphone. It’s nearly 10 PM.

The flimsy door connecting the back of the counter to Takemi’s office slides aside. “Sorry for the late night. Didn’t expect the consultations to drag on for so long,” is the first thing she says to Chihaya. As Takemi sheds her white coat, she bends back to stretch her arms and roll her shoulders, her collarbones pressing against the paleness of her skin. Chihaya thinks that this is the side doctors don’t let their patients see, and feels more like than intruder than anything else.

“It’s alright; I’m used to late nights!” she quips to break the tension.

“Is that so? What do you do when you aren’t being a last-minute receptionist, then?” Takami asks as she folds her coat and lays it over the countertop. Her cool expression breaks to reveal a coy smile.

A chill of apprehension runs down Chihaya’s spine, and she twists her fingers together. It’s become natural to introduce herself as a skilled fortune teller. It had never been a choice for her, not since she started her trade in Shinjuku. People already know who she is before they even speak to her. But tonight, it’s just the two of them, alone in this hideaway clinic. Chihaya wonders what it must feel like to be free.

“You don’t seem like you’re a spy,” Takemi says in the most casual way. She props an elbow against the desk, massaging the back of her shoulder.

“A spy?!” Chihaya repeats, sitting up straighter. “Why would you get that impression?”

“I just thought that someone was still trying to keep tabs on me. Thought that they were getting a bit smarter, sending someone like you. But you’re too peculiar, and I can tell that you’re not from the medical field. So.” Takemi stops, letting her words balance in the air, before narrowing her eyes at Chihaya. “Who are you?”

Takemi’s gaze is heavy and tired, and Chihaya realises that she’s been in her own little bubble all this time. She’d almost forgotten what distrust looked like. But she doesn’t feel scared. Things are different now. She’s no longer sixteen.

Chihaya swallows. It makes her throat even drier, but she presses on. When had she been able to decide who she was? It’s a powerful realisation, enough for her to bottle the truth in her chest, her heart pounding.

“I’m Chihaya Mifune. I usually do… consultant work. But it’s not been going as well as I thought, so I wanted a change of pace. It clicked when I overheard your predicament.” And then, the words spill out of her before she can hold them back: “Don’t you think it’s fate that we met this evening?”

“... Fate?” Takemi shakes her head with a soft, unhappy chuckle. “If so, then fate must be a cruel trickster. Do you know who I am?”

“Not at all, but I want to!” Chihaya, undeterred, brings up an earnest smile that she hopes will make up for the doctor’s lack thereof. “It seems that you’re popular with the people in the area. I stay around Shinjuku, so I wouldn’t know.”

“Then you also wouldn’t know that I’m the back alley doctor around these parts, and that the medicine I work with can’t be found in the pharmacy.”

If Takemi is trying to be unkind, she’s doing a bad job of it. Or, perhaps, Chihaya doesn’t feel intimidated because she trusts the fate that’s led her here.  
  
“Thank you for letting me know, but I’m not changing my mind.” She’d caught the clinic’s opening hours on her way up the stairs. 10AM to 8PM. Tonight, Takemi let all those in line see her. This probably isn’t the first time she’s done it, either. “If you’re looking for a receptionist, I’m available on weekdays till 6 PM.”  
  
The doctor leans against the doorframe wordlessly. Her eyes don’t change, but Chihaya senses the currents of fate shifting before Takemi opens her mouth.  
  
“You’re persistent,” the doctor finally says, her voice wavering with fondness that Chihaya can’t help but find familiar. “I’m not hiring anyone for now, but I’ll pay you for your help tonight.”

“Well, that means you might want to hire someone in the future. I should come back during the day if that’s the case. You should see if having me around is useful, right, doctor?”

“Don't call me that. Takemi’s fine.” Then, she drapes her coat over her arm and says in an even voice, “If you're serious about it, you're going to have to swear a blood oath.”

“A what now?!”  
  
“… Just kidding.” Takemi retreats back into her office, her face already hidden from view.

Spring is finally coming around, in a way that Chihaya could never have predicted.

  
☽  
****

**2\. summer**

Chihaya files the patient records back in the metal drawer under the desk, taking care to put them in order. The last part of her evening routine is to mop the floor and wipe down the waiting seats, but she hopes that Takemi won't scold her for missing a day. She's going to be late for her appointment with Minami, a housewife who loves hearing readings and telling Chihaya about her garden.

She glances at her phone as she gets up to leave, and is surprised to find five missed calls from Minami. She quickly returns the call. Minami picks up in two rings.

“Hello? Chihaya-chan? I was so worried about where you'd gone!”

“I'm sorry for not picking up your calls! Is something the matter?” Chihaya says, keeping her voice low. She nods as Minami asks her to reschedule the appointment because of a wake she has to attend. She doesn’t want Chihaya waiting out alone in the street for her, and tells her to go home and rest after what must have been a long day outside.

“No, no, it's alright. Thank you for thinking of me.” Chihaya laughs, but it comes out as an embarrassing, strangled squeak. “I understand, Minami-san. I’ll see you tomorrow instead, then.”

Minami is the last of three to cancel on her tonight, and just like that, her night has been emptied of purpose. Chihaya has nothing else to do except to pull the mop and bucket out of the storeroom and roll up her sleeves. She usually rushes out of the clinic at 6 to set up her table to catch stragglers of the bustling nightlife in Shinjuku and perform readings for clients who’ve knocked off work. How odd that all three have cancelled on her. She doesn’t use the word ‘coincidence’ to describe this predicament.

After the floor is sparkling and the chairs are clean, Chihaya decides she might as well continue working on the rest of the clinic. She throws away the outdated flyers on the boards, clears out the rubbish, tidies up behind the counter and gives the toilet a good scrub. While looking for more floor cleaner, she opens the medicine cabinet and instead finds expensive-looking shampoo and conditioner, along with a worn out toothbrush.

Almost an hour later, she pokes her head into Takemi’s office, smelling like lemons and soap. The doctor has taken off her black platform shoes and is sporting a pair of slippers on her feet.

Even when wearing flip-flops, she looks elegant enough to be invited for a dinner party. Of all the people she’s met in Tokyo, Takemi is probably the person Chihaya knows the least about. She’s used to holding first conversations over her tarot cards, used to burning requests from strangers to look into them, at their past, present, future, at everything that they are made of and everything they will become. She comes away from first meetings knowing almost too much about a person: their fears, their dreams; sometimes, how they’ll die. 

She’s not used to talking at length with someone whose future she hasn’t peered into. There are no guiding lights, no handholds to show her the way, to tell her what she ought to say. So, she just goes with her gut.

“Takemi-san? Will you be leaving soon?” Chihaya has always left too early to see Takemi lock up, and no matter what time she arrives in the morning, the clinic is always already open.

“Leave? No. I’ll just get dinner a little later. Thanks for helping to clean up,” Takemi says without looking up from the notes on her clipboard. She spins the pencil in her right hand in easy circles.

“You always work so late. Come in a bit later tomorrow. You’re not the only one who can open the clinic, you know.” Chihaya shows off the duplicate keys she’d been given last week like a badge of honour.

“That won’t be necessary.”

Normally, Chihaya would take this as Takemi being her usual, no-nonsense self. But she lingers at the doorway, recalling what she’d found in the washroom.

“Takemi-san, do you stay here?”

The doctor doesn’t bother to ask how Chihaya knows, only shrugs and says, “Yes, I do.”

“But why?”

“My parents kicked me out onto the street.”

“That’s terrible!”

Takemi finally looks up from her papers. “I’m joking,” she says, something like a hint of a smile appearing for a split second on her face. “You’re too gullible, Mifune.”

“I’m—” Chihaya stops. Her cheeks go hot as she recalls how she’d been tricked by Fukurai when she first arrived in the city, and also the time when she’d been conned by an anonymous call that claimed her parents had been kidnapped and that they demanded a ransom. Chihaya isn’t prepared to relive it all now, and so she bites back and says, “Don’t you have your own place to go back to?”

As she hears these words come out of her mouth, Chihaya feels their sting and hangs her head in shame. It’s so easy to make mistakes when you don’t quite know the person you’re talking to.  
Takemi sets her clipboard aside and sinks back into her chair, still doing tricks with her pencil. Thankfully, she doesn’t seemed annoyed by Chihaya’s prying. “Well, when I got this place two years ago, I was ousted from the medical community. I had no reputable name and I was still paying student loans, mind you. There was no way I could afford this place and an apartment that wasn’t on the outskirts of the city. So, this was the solution.”

The keys are hard and cold in Chihaya's hand. “… But why go to such lengths to establish a clinic with no safety net?”

The pencil stops twirling. Chihaya thinks, for a moment, that Takemi will bounce a question back at her to avoid answering. Instead, the doctor tilts her chin and offers her a little smile. A reward, Chihaya thinks, for being nosy.

“Isn’t it the same reason why you moved out from the sticks with only the clothes on your back?”

Chihaya stands awkwardly at the threshold between the office and the waiting room, contemplating these words. Her own apartment, cluttered with books and bare except for a singular bamboo plant, is no better than this clinic. But she wants to say: _No, it’s not. Whatever I did, I did for myself_ . Because she’s sure that Takemi’s reason isn’t a selfish one. No one would live like this unless they wanted something fiercely.

“... Maybe we aren’t so different after all,” Tae says. It is a casual observation that Chihaya wishes was true.  

“Maybe.”

☽

When summer arrives, it brings a spike in the number of young patients with bruised legs, broken bones, and colds resulting from cannonballing into canals.

Chihaya finishes updating her scheduler just as Rio and her mother step out of the doctor’s office. Rio’s wrist, which had been swelling and bluish when she had come in, is now bandaged neatly. The young girl, who can’t be older than fourteen, cradles her injury close to herself, her lips pressed into a fine line.

Rio’s mother, a middle-aged woman with streaks of grey in her hair, hands Chihaya the doctor’s note. Chihaya thanks her as she deciphers the scrawls and quickly retrieves the prescription from the lowest shelf of the medicine cabinet.

“Rio-chan will just have to take this supplement twice a day after meals,” she informs the mother and daughter, placing the bottle on the counter.

Before she can ask for cash or credit, Rio’s mother clears her throat and says, “Excuse me, could you call Dr. Takemi out for a moment?”

“Of course.” Chihaya takes a quick glance around the room to check that the next patient hasn’t gone in, before sliding the dividing door aside and gesturing for Takemi’s attention.

Once Takemi emerges behind the counter, the woman cuts straight to the point. “Rio has a game next month. Could you give her something to speed up the healing? I’ve heard that you have special medicine available here.”

Takemi doesn’t blink, she slides her hands in the pockets of her coat and says, “The strain will heal on its own as long as she rests it properly. I don’t have any medication to give to her.”

“Are you sure, Doctor? Please, this game is important to her. She’s been training for a year for it!” the woman presses, fidgeting with her purse. “How much will it be? If it’s not too expensive, we can afford it.”

“Mama…” Rio starts to say, a troubled look flashing across her face. “It’s fine. It’s not that bad.”

“That wasn’t what you were saying on the way over here,” her mother tuts. “The doctor said it can take up to a month to heal. That won’t do, will it? The only reason we came out to this clinic in the middle of nowhere was because of the rumours. You don’t have to act like a doctor. I know that you experiment with strong medicine.”

This isn’t the first time a new patient is making demands over the counter. Chihaya hadn’t really believed Takemi about her reputation until a few weeks back, when a trio of thugs came in asking for strength enhancing drugs. Takemi had warded them back with only a clipboard and a ballpoint pen in her hand. Afterwards, she’d explained to Chihaya that she only gave her medication to people she knew could be trusted.

“Iwasaki-san,” Takemi says, her voice unyielding. “She’s still young. It’s better to let her body heal the injury at its own pace.” Then, she turns to Rio, and her tone softens just a bit. “Just remember to rest it until it gets better, alright?”

“I understand.” Rio’s eyes are a little watery, but she’s trying to keep up a brave front.

“Good. I’ll see you in two weeks for a follow-up. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other patients to attend to.” Takemi shifts her attention to the other person sitting in the room, an elderly man with a cane between his knees. “Yamada-san? Please proceed to the examination room.”

Before the mother can say another word, Takemi disappears back into her office and Chihaya lurches forward to thrust the bottle of supplement pills towards her. “Iwasaki-san, would you like to pay by cash or credit?”

“Credit,” the mother says, before muttering, “She doesn’t want to give me medicine, and makes me pay for this instead?”

“The best medicine is always rest. I’m sure Dr. Takemi was very mindful when she made this decision!” Chihaya brings out what she hopes is a pleasant smile.

Though the woman doesn’t return her smile, she pays the bill without further protest. After handing the medicine to her daughter, she pats her on the shoulder and gestures for her to sit down along the row of empty chairs. “Rio, wait here for a moment, will you? I’ll go out and call a taxi.”

This exchange isn’t lost on Chihaya. She presses the front of her shoes eagerly into the floor, waits for the woman to disappear down the stairs, before reaching into her handbag and beckoning Rio over to the counter. As the girl draws close, Chihaya splays her tarot cards out and says in a hushed whisper, “Would you believe me if I told you I was a fortune-teller?”

Rio, who’s had a sullen expression ever since she’d stepped into the clinic, lights up at these words. Chihaya remembers how all the girls in her middle school were obsessed with horoscopes, mood rings, and love calculator websites that claimed to give 100% accurate predictions. It’s a silent, inevitable thing for Rio’s hand to reach out and touch the deck of cards.

Tight on time, Chihaya has no choice but to go for a single card reading. When The Sun reveals itself, the images wash over her in waves of soft light. A girl in mid-leap, sweat in her hair, hand poised at the perfect angle. A sharp spike. A whistle blow. Joy. Exhilaration. Fists punching at the air. The roar of the crowd, a sweltering day bookended by a close victory that would last for many summers to come.

“… It’ll be fine as long as you promise to rest it for two weeks.” Chihaya cups a hand between her mouth and Rio’s ear. She doesn’t give everything away, doesn’t want to steal the win from its owner. Rio leaves the clinic with a skip in her step and a confused mother.

As the afternoon winds down and Yamada leaves with ample medicine for his back pains, Chihaya steps into Takemi’s office with arms folded. She furrows her brow, and stares at the doctor until she swivels her chair towards her.

“Something the matter?”

Chihaya taps her foot, working out the frustration of not being able to read Takemi’s mind. “Why were you so… so…” she falters as she searches for the words, realising that whatever she says now would just be an assumption.

“Cold?” Takemi substitutes it for one of her own.

“That’s not the word I was thinking of at all,” Chihaya mumbles, crossing her arms even tighter.

The bright glow from the laptop screen colours Takemi’s face a beautiful, faint blue, but her expression doesn’t change. “I give remedies for the body, not remedies for the heart,” she says pointedly. “The girl doesn’t need medication because her wrist sprain will probably be healed in two weeks’ time. I didn’t tell her that because it would’ve likely made her over-excited and she’d go back to pitching before the wrist healed fully. Tends to happen when you give good news to patients.”

There’s something in Takemi’s voice, the sureness of her diagnosis, the way she tries to mask her kindness. It makes Chihaya believe her. Still, she prods, “How can you be so sure?”

“We’ll only know in two weeks, won’t we?” Takemi’s reply is flat and final. Chihaya’s not going to get another word out of her on this matter. And so, it’s up to her to gather the hanging threads.

“I didn’t see it that way,” Chihaya says as she lets her arms drop to her sides. The thought that she’ll never be able to understand the world the way Takemi does isn’t as upsetting as it should be. “I’m sorry for misunderstanding.”

And then, because she doesn’t want to end with an apology, because there’s something more important to say, she clenches her hands and takes a deep breath.

“You aren’t cold, by the way. Even if you may think of yourself that way, I don't think it's true. If you really didn’t care about Rio-chan, you wouldn’t have gone through so much hassle to help her. You would’ve just given her some weird medicine. You wouldn’t have spoken to her like that,” Chihaya stops. She thumbs at the crease in her skirt and arrives to her conclusion. “… You’re just indirect, sometimes.”

It’s a powerful thing, to be able to say this so confidently without referring to the cards. Somehow, Chihaya doesn’t think she’s made a mistake this time, but she doesn’t want to hang around for the aftermath. She steps out of the office, closing the door behind her as she goes. “Have a good evening, Takemi-san.”

“Tae.”

Chihaya snaps her eyes up from the floor and opens the door back wider, nearly falling over. “Sorry? What was that?”

“You can call me Tae.”

Warmth bubbles in the pit of Chihaya’s stomach. It feels out of place, but not unwelcome. Scrambling to come up with an adequate response, she settles with a, “Thank you,” her voice coming out softer than she intends it to.

Tae had turned the back of her chair to the door, but she must’ve heard, because the chair squeaks just a little in response.

Two weeks later, Rio practically bounds out of Tae’s office, holding her wrist up high and proud and bare.

“You were right!” the girl beams, as bright as a little sun, and Chihaya thinks, that perhaps, doctors are just fortune tellers with remedies for the body.

☽

  
The hot sunlight on Chihaya's face coaxes her out of bed early. It had been so stuffy the night before, she had drawn back the blinds and thrown open her windows. Her body operates on autopilot as she goes through her morning routine, sleep still in her eyes. It's only when she brushes out the painful knots in her hair that she really wakes up. Eventually, she finds herself climbing up the flight stairs to the Takemi Medical Clinic with two red bean buns from the train station’s bakery, an hour ahead of opening time.

She finds Tae in the washroom, applying her makeup.

“G-good morning!” Chihaya manages to say, her greeting all clumsy. Tae nods at her, unable to speak as she applies lipstick. She can’t help but stare as Tae lines her barely open mouth with that dark red shade she’s been sporting for a few weeks now.

“Your lipstick is something else.” This comment slips out of Chihaya, after weeks of noticing that Tae's lipstick never seems to fade throughout the day. It could survive long afternoon consultations, which stretched up to five hours when patients were relentless.

“Yeah, it’s pretty long-lasting. Want to give it a try?” Tae holds it out uncapped.

“Ah, I don’t wear lipstick,” Chihaya admits sheepishly. She remembers being three years younger and deciding that she couldn't afford to dress herself up, in all senses of the word. “I usually make do with lipgloss.”

Tae hands her a pack of makeup wipes. “Well, there’s a first time for everything. Here, I’ll help you.”

Chihaya goes on autopilot again, for an entirely different reason this time. She wipes off her drugstore lipgloss without a word, removes her headband, and pulls her hair back into a messy ponytail. A country girl she may be, but she knows that she has to at least put in effort to make the lipstick work on her. Faintly, she wonders if Tae will like this image change.

Tae steps up to her, tilting her head with analytical focus, as if breaking down how she should do this. Chihaya closes her eyes, very, very sure that she won’t survive this if she has to look at Tae. Tae smells like medicine and handsoap, a scent that Chihaya has grown far too familiar with. And though she knows it’s coming, she still flinches when the lipstick touches her mouth. She feels Tae’s fingers on the skin beneath her lips, and a tiny shiver runs up her spine. The fact that Tae had just been using this lipstick is not helping. At all.

“Hold still.” Her other hand grazes Chihaya’s exposed neck, and she instantly regrets tying her hair back. Her hands clench at the fabric of her dress. It’s hot all of a sudden, and she can hear the pummel of her heart in her ears. Chihaya blames it on the summer heat and the faulty air-conditioning of the clinic. Another part of Chihaya, much more foolish and reckless, wishes that she could bury this sensation deep into her chest, to at least own this one thing.

“It doesn’t really suit you, eh?”

Chihaya opens her eyes wide. Tae is just inches from her face.

“W-w-what?!” she croaks out, hands frantically flying up to cover her already red cheeks. She instinctively puckers her lips, feeling the crayon-like texture of the lipstick. It tastes funny, too.

“Just kidding. You look cute,” Tae says with a lethal smirk. “You also look like a tomato.”

“Well, it was really hot on the walk over.” Chihaya fans herself, making big motions with her hand and trying not to let Tae frazzle her even further. She lowers her head and staggers into the washroom to check her reflection. She looks as dazed as she feels, and the dark lipsitck accentuates how thoroughly flushed her face is. She is indeed strikingly similar a tomato, a very ripe one at that.

“You liar; it doesn’t suit me at all!” Chihaya laughs, more at herself than anything else. It makes her feel like she’s finally gotten back control of herself. She still can’t look at Tae, at least, not until her pulse slows down.

But Tae has other plans, because her fingertips tickle the back of Chihaya’s neck. Chihaya grips her hands on the edge of the sink. Her eyes remain glued to the tiled floor beneath her feet. “What is it?” she squeaks, biting her lips, realising too late that she might ruin the lipstick.

She feels Tae’s breath on the shell of her ear, and inhales sharply. Tae smells like medicine and handsoap and all the things Chihaya is not supposed to have.

“I’ve never tested how well this lipstick holds.”

“I KNOW!” Chihaya nearly shrieks out. She barrels past Tae to the front desk and makes a decisive grab for the red bean buns.

“We can eat these!” Chihaya declares with far too much excitement, brandishing the bread in both hands. She hopes that from where Tae is on the other side of the room, she can’t hear how loud her heart is beating.

Tae raises an eyebrow at her, the corner of her mouth lifting just so. She chuckles to herself before saying, “I guess that works too.”

☽

**3. fall**

Chihaya places the book on her lap. Its title jumps out at her in a bright, bubble typeface: _Get Senpai to Notice You_! by pop sensation Risette.

She can’t remember how this book came into her possession. She’d probably bought it in her haste to give better advice. How funny, that she never got around to reading this. The stacks of reference books have dwindled and disappeared over the summer, making her apartment even more bare than it’d already been. That Chihaya had saved this book for last is both telling and mortifying. Since that morning a few weeks ago, she and Tae have been pretending that nothing had happened between them. For every moment they didn’t talk about sharing lipsticks, they talked about patients, new stocks of medicine coming in, or didn’t talk at all. They’d been to Leblanc a few times for a late dinner, and Sojiro could tell that that was the only place they went because he once joked, “Don’t you have anywhere else to go?”

Despite his words, he always gives them extra curry with their rice.

Chihaya imagines what it would be like to venture with Tae beyond the unspoken perimeter of Yongenjaya. She could introduce Tae to the cheap beef bowl place she likes to frequent after her late-night consultations. Their servings were huge. They could possibly share a bowl together—

“No, no, no!” Chihaya snaps out of her reverie, flinging the dangerous book aside. She locks her knees to her chest and runs her hands through a mess of tangled hair. “This wasn’t supposed to happen!”

Chihaya eyes the deck of tarot cards on the coffee table. She presses her mouth into her knees and grumbles. “You never said anything about this.”

Then again, the cards hadn’t revealed much to her to begin with. Add that to how much Tae has been taking her by surprise, and Chihaya has a right to be affronted. She’s the real fortune teller here, after all.

As these thoughts stew in her head, Chihaya realises belatedly that she hasn’t done a reading for herself in months. She’s been so busy balancing between work at the clinic and her clients that she usually comes home, showers, and heads straight to bed. She starts to reach out for the cards, but stops herself halfway.

What does she want to know right now? The question is a simple one that makes her insides twist up. If all she wants is to see what will happen between her and Tae, shouldn’t she just go with a relationship spread? The thought almost makes her sick, and she feels a lump in her throat.

Chihaya’s past attempts at doing relationship spreads for her crushes in middle school and high school had ended up terribly. She always regretted asking the cards, because they always told her it wouldn't work out. And it never did.

Perhaps that was why she always clung onto anyone who’d accept her. It didn’t matter if it was a religious cult, or a shady back alley clinic.

Chihaya has never thought about how long she would be working at the Takemi Medical Clinic. She’d been taking it for granted, that she’d found somewhere where she could be herself without remorse. It’s almost laughable now, since Chihaya has spent the past six months hiding more than half of her life from Tae. She knows she can’t stay there forever, but she can’t bear to think of leaving.

Didn’t the cards send her to the clinic for a reason? She’d asked them for direction, but now, half a year later, she thinks that she’s gotten even more lost. Maybe the only thing she can do is perform a reading and let the cards tell her to leave before she makes a terrible mistake again.

But Chihaya can’t trick herself like she used to anymore. She can’t blame the cards anymore, either. She knows that the course of fate is something that she must decide for herself. But everyone has bad habits they don’t grow out of, and hers just happens to be wanting things she isn’t meant to have.

What’s the point of deciding your own fate, if you always make the same mistakes?

Chihaya lifts her head to scan the room. Apart from the space left vacant by the books, nothing much has changed since the start of the year. Take-chan is still alive. The walls are still empty. A ball of black yarn in her designated knitting corner has begun to unravel itself. She needs to find time to get started on it.

She uncurls herself and gets onto her feet to slide open the window. Chihaya sticks her head out in an attempt to air her muddled brain. The wind skims across her cheeks. She hears the sounds of the city drowning each other out. It doesn’t seem any different from another day in Tokyo, but change is in the air. It is both a terrifying and necessary thing.

☽

“Ta-da!”

Chihaya holds the black bento out to Tae. She reminds herself that this is a perfectly normal thing to do for someone, never mind that she got the idea from reading Risette’s book.

“What’s this? Bribing your boss?” Tae drawls out, a laugh hidden in her voice. She is nowhere near surprised enough, but Chihaya hasn’t given up.

“Well, is it working? Have I won you over?”

Tae throws her white coat over her chair. “We’ll see,” she says as she joins Chihaya for lunch behind the front counter.

It is not the first time they’re eating together. Chihaya usually orders takeaway lunches from the neighbourhood stores, and Tae either eats with her or in the office if she’s busy with work. Today is the first time Chihaya has brought lunch from home. She’d woken up extra early to cook a pot of green curry. It's the only recipe she's mastered, and Tae doesn't make a comment about how they're eating curry yet again. The absence of something has never felt so kind.

As Tae tries her first spoonful of curry and rice, Chihaya leans in, intent on catching Tae’s reaction as she tastes the dish. “Have I captured your heart, Tae-chan?” She doesn’t stifle the laugh that accompanies her words. She’s resolved to be so affectionate with Tae, that it will backfire and desensitise her to all these twisted up feelings she’s carrying.

“Don’t call me that. It reminds me of my ex.”

The metal spoon bends in Chihaya’s hand.

“This is good, though. Could use more spice,” Tae adds, unaffected.

“Um, thank you,” Chihaya replies. She has to use both hands to straighten her spoon.

“Is something the matter?” Tae has an expectant look on her face, and Chihaya knows if she hides everything from her, there’ll be nothing left. She fumbles with the spoon in her hand and jabs it into the bed of rice before speaking.

“You never mentioned you had an ex. Though I suppose that’s no surprise, given how—” Chihaya pulls the brakes in her head just in time. “—Anyway, what was she like?”

Tae rests her shoulder against the counter and raises her eyes to the ceiling. “It was when I was in college. We were both in the same course. I used to stick out because of my piercings. She stuck out because of her wardrobe. She changed her hairstyle every day and I never saw her wear the same outfit twice.”

Chihaya thinks about how she wears practically the same outfit every day, eats a mouthful of curry, and lets it warm in her mouth. “How did you end up together?” she asks before going in for another bite.

Tae cracks a smile at this. “Because I thought it was interesting. We were quite the pair, a goth chick and a fairy kei girl. Earned a lot of stares. She called me ‘Tae-chan,’ which I didn’t mind back then. But it was the same for her. She asked me out because she liked the concept of us being together. We didn’t really work out, but we ended it on good terms. She’s practicing medicine back in her hometown now, I think.”

Something in the story doesn’t sit well with Chihaya. She glues her knees together and says, “That's not quite it, Tae-san.”

“Oh? What is it, then?” Tae licks the curry on her upper lip. Her lipstick doesn’t smear.  

The Tae she’s come to know is someone who always treats her patients equally no matter who they are, who gave her this job without pressing her with questions. “It's because you don't judge someone by their appearance. It wasn’t because you thought it’d be interesting. It was because you didn’t care that she looked different.”

Tae says nothing. She coats her rice with a generous amount of curry and scoops it into her mouth.

Chihaya watches her eat, and realises that she’s said something incredibly telling and rude. She quickly blurts out, “I only learned to cook when I left my town. I've never cooked for anyone else before!” It is a fact that ends up sounding like a confession, and Chihaya wants to dump out all the patient records and lock herself in the metal drawer under the desk.

“It’s delicious. Thank you. I've haven't eaten a home-cooked meal in a long time.”

There is a sort of sad truth in those words which distracts Chihaya from her embarrassment. For a foolish moment, she thinks she knows where Tae is coming from. Because of this, she asks the most dreadful thing she can, while they can still pretend that she's just a part-time receptionist.

“Tae-san, do you ever feel lonely?”

Tae’s answer, spoken with such grace, almost doesn’t sound like yet another sad truth. “I don’t have the luxury to think about that.”

Chihaya wants to tell her that that isn’t true. That no one should be made to feel that way. But she wouldn’t know what to say after that, because, doesn’t she feel the same way about herself?

So, they finish the rest of their lunch in silence.  

  
☽

The wheel of her luggage catches against the door as she emerges from the internet café. She squints her eyes at the harsh sun and the dizzying swell of people in the street. She’d almost forgotten how crowded the city was, how even breathing felt hard amidst all the people, having spent a week holed up in the café. The only reason she’s plucked up the courage to leave is because the cards have told her to.

She turns down several streets, hauling her luggage behind her. She tries her best to ignore the glances the people keep throwing at her, and instead, lets her intuition guide her path. She’s in a part of the city she’s never visited before. It’s only at the train station that she learns that this is Shibuya. The building are stretching up into the sky, and the amount of department stores and bars in the area all shoved into one stretch of road is something she would never see back home. In contrast, the suspicious looks from the people who walk past her remind her too much of her hometown, and she diverts her attention away from the crowd. Too distracted by the signs overhead, she doesn’t see the man squatting to tie his shoelaces, and ends up bumping into him.

“Aw, shucks! I’m real sorry about that!” she sputters out. Her words sound so strange to her own ears and it’s only then that she realises she hasn’t really spoken much for the past week, and that she hasn’t heard anyone else speak in her dialect either. She feels herself shrink at the thought of not being able to recognise her own voice.

Before the man can raise his voice at her, another man, taller and better dressed, steps in and places a hand on his shoulder. He manages to convince him to leave, before turning back to her and scanning her from head to toe.

“You’re not from around here, are you? I can tell. I can tell that you have a great power in you that you aren’t showing others,” he says casually, extended a hand out to her, the rings on his right hand shimmering.

Another psychic? She loosens her grip on the handle of her luggage.

The daylight fades, but the lights of the buildings circling around her do not come on. The crowd weaving around them thins, the sounds of the city trickling into silence, until all that’s left is a hollow darkness, and the only person she can see is this man with a big, big grin on his face. She feels fear plant itself in her heart, but reaches her hand out to him.   

“Who are you, my dear?”

“I’m Chihaya,” she says, written with the characters for ‘thousand’ and ‘morning’ because her parents wanted her to always look ahead, towards the new day.

The man shakes his head and laughs. His eyes narrow into slits. “No, silly. Who are you, really?”

She stiffens as the pain shoots right through her chest. It breaks through the dam she’s been holding up, and the words that flood her heart begin coming out in chokes. “I’m… I’m just a monster… a monster with no place left to go.”

She begins to sink down onto her knees, but the man reaches out and clamps down hard on her wrist.

“That won’t do. Come, I’ll give you a place to belong.”

Instead of feeling relief, the fear inside her grows. She’s hauled onto her feet, and doesn’t say anything when he drops a heavy rock in her hands.  

“From now on, you won’t be a monster any longer. You’ll be our Maiden of Relief.”

“Alright, Fukurai-san.”

Why is she going along with this? Isn’t this too easy? Something is wrong.

A scream shatters her thoughts. It’s her own voice. The stone is scalding her hands, emitting steam, but she can’t let go of it. She watches as it melts between her fingers, leaving angry, red marks deep into the skin of her palms.

She wants to ask Fukurai what’s going on, but he’s no longer human. He glowers at her and hisses, “Don’t you even think for a second that you can escape from your past,” and then, the darkness engulfs them.

Chihaya bolts upright.

She’s in her apartment, shivering in cold sweat, her heart beating rapidly. She snatches her hands out from under her covers.

No scars. Nothing.

  
☽

  
“Hey, do you have plans for dinner today?”

Chihaya, who’d been tracing the lines on her palm with a finger, looks up. Tae is tapping her clipboard against her shoulder, waiting for a reply. Chihaya doesn’t know what time it is, but given the lack of patients, it must be close to closing. She hadn’t been in a rush to leave, with no scheduled readings for her clients to go to. Fate seems to be hinting that today is the day she’ll be able to tell Tae what she’s been meaning to.

“No. Why? Do you want to bring me out for a nice date?” Chihaya teases with a grin.

Tae rolls her eyes, managing to look inviting even as she does. “I don’t do fancy stuff. I just want to return the favour from the other day.”

Chihaya hadn’t expected to get anything back for that awkward lunch. She drops her smile, clears her throat and nods.

“Alright,” Tae says. “Let’s leave for your place in ten.”

Chihaya jumps onto her feet. “M-m-my place?”

“You have a kitchen, yeah? I’ll cook something up as thanks,” Tae explains before walking back to her desk to finish up work on her computer.

Chihaya slumps back on her stool and tries to recall if she’d left her place in a presentable state this morning. She’d mopped the floor just two days ago, on Sunday, right? Had she left any incriminating evidence behind? No, she only has her tarot cards, which are tucked safely away in her handbag. When Tae comes out of her office, ready to leave, Chihaya is still rummaging through every nook and cranny of her apartment in her head.

They take the long route out of Shinjuku station so that Chihaya can avoid bumping into anyone who might recognise her. Tae doesn’t complain, merely walks beside her, observing the ads on the buildings and the many eateries along the way. They stop by a supermarket so that Tae can buy what she needs to cook for dinner. Chihaya peeks over her shoulder at every opportunity, throwing out guesses for what she’s planning to cook.

“Tofu and fried rice?”

“It’s a surprise,” Tae hums.

As they leave, sharing the groceries between them, Chihaya vaguely notes that she has never walked up this street with anyone before. Chihaya thinks that this feeling might be happiness. Then, she realises that Tae hadn’t corrected her when she’d asked if they were going on a date. Her neck grows hot as she catches Tae’s hand from the corner of her eye, holding onto a bag of vegetables. Her fingernails have been painted a bright red.

Eventually, the ten minute walk comes to an end when they reach her building and climb up the stairs to the second storey. Tae has to sit on the genkan near the door to unstrap herself from her shoes. Chihaya hurries inside without waiting for her. The good thing about living in such a tiny space is that cleaning up is easy. She only has to shove her knitting project, which she’d left out on the coffee table, under her bed. 

When Tae walks into the room, she doesn't say anything about the emptiness of it. Instead, she comments, “Nice cactus,” before unloading the groceries in the kitchen.

Chihaya laughs and doesn’t correct her. It's odd how Tae’s presence makes the apartment feel bigger than it is, less suffocating.

Though Tae tells her to sit outside while she cooks, Chihaya is unable to keep still. She pokes her head into the kitchen, and is overcome with the fragrance of onions and chilli paste. Tae, who’s usually seen in her white coat and platforms, is now sporting a blue apron and a spare pair of slippers. She's shorter than Chihaya.

Lingering at the doorway, Chihaya reminds herself that this is the only time she’ll get to see this side of Tae. It feels so mundane, and precisely so precious because if that.

Tae adjusts the gas before looking over her shoulder. “You’re enjoying this domestic side of me, aren’t you?”

“I’m not complaining.” Chihaya has gotten used to telling half-truths now. She locks her hands behind her back.

“If you’re sticking around, could you help with the rice? I should be done in about five minutes.”

And so, Chihaya prepares the utensils and two bowls of rice. She washes up the dirty bowls as Tae watches over a bubbling pan of mapo tofu. Ten minutes later, both of them are seated opposite one another on secondhand floor cushions, their dinner laid out on the tiny table between them. Tae had added chicken to the mapo tofu, making it a simple but hearty dish.

The first thing Chihaya tastes is the heat of the special red sauce, which she counteracts with a timely ball of rice. It’s a good kind of spicy, which leaves room for her to discern the ingredients. She knows that she won’t be able to replicate this taste anywhere else, and savours every bite. Did Tae feel this way when she’d eaten her green curry?

The act of someone cooking a meal for her shouldn’t be as meaningful as this, but Chihaya knows that the only other person who’s ever served her a warm meal is her mother. She puts her chopsticks down on the table, swallows the food in her mouth, and straightens her posture. “There’s… something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”

“What a coincidence. I wanted to discuss something too,” Tae says, taking a sip from her cup of instant green tea.

“Please, after you,” Chihaya offers, because she doesn’t know if Tae will want to speak to her if she goes first.

Tae, who has never been one to complicate matters, takes the offer without missing a beat. “I’m thinking about winding down the business. I haven’t been delivering on my research with the hospital I’m working with. Even with your help, I have too many patients to split my time equally between the two. I’ve considering adjusting the clinic’s opening hours, or closing it on alternate days. The patients will have to go to a proper GP or hospital if they really need help.”

Chihaya’s bowl hits the table top before Tae has even finished. “Why would you do that? You’re plenty proper!”

For once, Tae doesn’t meet her gaze. She sets her bowl down too, quieter than Chihaya did. She fingers the ceramic edge of it as she says, “You know, I opened the clinic to continue my practice, but also to perfect my medicines. This past year, I’ve been doing too much of the former. I really need to start getting my act together.”

Chihaya pulls at the bit loose thread coming out of her shirt sleeve, waits for Tae to say “just kidding”. But the thread only gets longer and longer the more she pulls, until she can't take it anymore.

“You’re making it sound as if you’re not doing things right. But you’ve been doing all you can to help the patients. What’s wrong about that?” Chihaya can’t quite wrap her mind around Tae’s sudden decision. If only she’d done a reading, if only she could’ve foreseen this and prevented it from happening. But maybe the signs had all been there all along. She just hadn’t taken notice.

“If you truly prefer to work on your research, then that’s fine. But Tae-san, if that’s not the reason, then please reconsider. You should be doing what makes you happy.”

Tae leans back onto her hands. “That’s not the point, Chihaya.”

Her name, said in that weary voice, makes her toes curl. “… Why are you a doctor, then?”  

“You could say it’s because of a debt that I’ve decided to repay.” Tae lolls her head back. “I was a sickly kid; if it weren’t for the doctors who saved me, I wouldn’t even be here. I’ve dedicated my life to becoming someone who could help others because of that. Even though the young girl who set me on this path has already recovered, I still owe it to her to keep working on my research.”

“You can help others as a doctor; you don’t have to go back to research.” Chihaya leans forward on her elbows and threads her hands together, under her chin. “It’s something else, isn’t it?”

Tae doesn’t lean away. She doesn’t flinch, just like how she’d been when they’d first met. But there is a soft trace of vulnerability in her eyes that Chihaya has never seen before, and it makes her heart squeeze. Tae finally says, “I’ve just decided to stop trying to be someone I’m not.”

Chihaya reaches for her bag instinctively, to grab her tarot cards. She needs to show Tae her future, that she’s destined to be a wonderful doctor. But her hand freezes on the clasp of her bag as reality catches up to her. She’s kept up this lie for so long that she’s lost even the chance to show Tae this part of herself. This must be fate’s way of telling her that it’s over, because everything is falling too perfectly into place.

“What about you? What were you going to tell me?” Tae asks, fixing her eyes back on the food between them. Chihaya had forgotten that they were supposed to be eating. She picks up her chopsticks, but her wrist doesn’t lift off the table. Stuffing her face with food wouldn’t be a very subtle way to avoid the question.

Then, a hand covers hers, makes her loosen her grip on the chopsticks. Tae’s touch is not as cold as she expects it to be.

“Hey. You can be honest with me.”

Chihaya crumbles, from inside out.

“I... wanted to let you know that I don’t think I can work for you any longer. I was planning to work until December, at the latest.” She feels betrayed by her own words, but knows the inevitability of this moment.

Tae doesn’t say anything at first. She lets her hand remain over Chihaya’s for a few more seconds before sitting back and tucking a short strand of hair behind her ear.

“That works out nicely, then.”

☽  
****

**4\. winter**

Even though the clinic is seeing even more patients as the cold season sets in, the plan to scale back on the operating hours has already been put in motion. Notices of the change in the clinic’s opening and closing times come Spring have been tacked on the notice board and in the first floor corridor. Chihaya grows used to explaining the situation to the regulars, who are mostly understanding, if not worried about the news. They ask if Tae is coping well with work, whether she plans to move out of Yongenjaya, and Chihaya feels more like a PR manager in her last few weeks of work.

Though Christmas is still a few weeks off, Chihaya finishes her knitting project early and decides to gift it to Tae, not wanting to regret anything else. It’s a pair of simple, black woollen gloves. It had taken her awhile to find the studs she’d attach to the knuckles, but it’d been worth it. She hadn’t found the time to make any new clothes for herself this year, but this is her proudest project to date. It’s her first piece for a friend.

Tae slips them on even though they’re indoors, flexing her hand open and closed. “They’re lovely. Thank you, Chihaya.”

“It’s nothing. I’m glad that they fit. At least you’ll have a piece of me keeping you warm all the time, huh?” Chihaya had meant it as a cheesy joke, but she struggles to smile.

Tae looks at the calendar on the counter. “Next week will be your last week of work,” Tae says as she tugs the gloves off. “You were a great assistant. I couldn’t have asked for anyone else.”

“Knowing you, you wouldn’t have asked for anyone to begin with,” Chihaya can’t help but say.

“What are you, a psychic?” Tae asks, stuffing the gloves into the pocket of her coat.

Chihaya doesn’t deny it. Instead, she says, “I guess I have good intuition, sometimes.”

☽

On her second last day of work, Chihaya gets a rude awakening.

“Maiden! What are you doing here?”

Her mouth gapes open. The last person she’d expected to see here was Yokoda. When she’d held sessions with the members of the ADP to help them recover from Fukurai’s brainwashing, he’d been one of the few who stopped coming after the first round. He had been resistant to the idea of being able to alter his own fate, and was determined to find someone else who could guide him.

“I’m sorry we haven’t been in touch, Yokoda-san.” And Chihaya really is. She knows she should’ve spent more effort trying to contact him and the others. “I hope you’ve been doing well?”

“Yes. I’ve been doing great, in fact! I’ve found a new assembly that’s much better than the ADP —you should join us, Maiden. We’d be blessed to have your powers!” Yokoda says, adjusting his necktie.

Chihaya puts a finger to her lips in a vain attempt to get Yokoda to lower his voice. The other patients in the queue have begun to stare.

“No wonder I was told to come to this clinic today. Leader said that I’d be able to find something valuable here, and truly, he is never wrong. Please. Come with me, I’ll introduce you to the rest.” Yokoda extends his hand out to her.

“Yokoda-san, what is this group you’ve talking about? Who are they?” Chihaya asks as a bad feeling settles over her. “What if they aren’t any different from Fukurai?”

Yokoda begins to withdraw his hand, the friendly expression on his face contorting into insult. “I see what you’re doing, Maiden. You’re trying to break us apart again, just like what you did with the ADP.”

“I’m…” she starts, only to get cut off by Yokoda.

“Not everyone is as powerful as you! We can’t guide ourselves!” he slams his hands down on the counter.

The door of the doctor’s office swings open. Tae takes one look at her, and then at Yokoda, before stepping up to him, her lips pulled into a firm line.

“This is my clinic. I’ll have to ask you to stop harassing my staff and leave immediately.”

Yokoda laughs so loudly that spit lands on Tae’s cheek. She wipes it off with the back of her hand.  

“Your staff? Don’t talk so high-and-mighty, lady! Do you even know who she is?”

Tae raises an eyebrow at his question. Chihaya’s gut clenches.

“Someone like you shouldn’t even be speaking to her! The only reason I came here was because my leader told me the meds here are cheap and good. I don’t care if you’re the doctor here. All that makes this clinic important is the medication I can get.”

At these words, Chihaya immediately stands up, goes around the counter, and puts herself between Tae and Yokoda, shoulders square and hands on her hips.

“Enough!” She stamps a foot on the ground between them. “You’re actin’ ridiculous! How could’ja step into this clinic and assume all that? You ever see how much effort Tae-san puts in t’help others, how many people she’s saved with her own two hands? Unlike you, she tries her hand at altering fate all the damn time, and she succeeds! So don’t you come telling me you can’t do it because you don’t got no psychic powers! You’re just scared! Whatever you want in life can’t be given t’you by others; you’ve got to seize it for yourself!” Chihaya stops to dig deeper into herself, and then raises herself on her toes to shout, “And how many times do I hav’ta tell y’not to call me Maiden no more?!”

Her dialect burns on her tongue, raw and true. She doesn't apologise for slipping into it. Yokoda’s spectacles had gone askew during her fierce lecture, but before he can readjust them, the other patients in the waiting room get up to join Chihaya in shielding Tae from him.

“Don’t talk to Dr. Takemi like that! She’s a wonderful doctor! I haven’t felt this good in years!”

“Whatever bad things you want to do with her medicine, you’ll have to go through me first.”

“Me too!”

Yokoda edges back, pushing his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but you lot are definitely unworthy of saving. I’ll tell Leader and—”

“No one is unworthy of saving!” Chihaya cleaves through his words, her heart beating loudly, demanding to be heard. “Not even you, Yokoda-san. I know it’s hard to admit that you’ve made the wrong choices, but haven’t I said before that you can decide the trajectory of your fate? You can still do that without relying on others, as long as you don’t…” Her voice softens, as realisation washes over her. She brings a hand up to her mouth for just a moment, before stretching it out to him, palm facing up.

“Don’t confine yourself to your mistakes.”

Yokoda’s lower lip quivers, and in his eyes, Chihaya thinks she sees a glimmer of consciousness. He tears his gaze away from her open hand to survey the room and the others who’ve pooled around them.

“I-I have to go.” He spins on his heel and hurries out to the lobby, tripping over his shoelaces and nearly falling.

“I’ll wait for you at the usual place in Shinjuku!” Chihaya calls out to him. Though he doesn’t turn back, she knows he’s heard. She has a good feeling that she’ll see him in a week’s time.  
  
Chihaya rests her hand in the middle of her chest. Her heart is still drumming. Now that everything has come tumbling out in one big mess, now that she's finally seen what the cards must've wanted her to, there's no reason to stay here any longer. Her hand tightens into a closed fist. She tosses and turns what words to say, but then Tae’s voice breaks through the silence.

“You need to go, don’t you?”

Chihaya knows she can’t turn around now. She doesn’t think she’ll be able to leave if she does. She rubs at the corners of her eyes. Her own hands smell like medicine and handsoap. Pressing her nose to the inside of her wrist, it takes her a moment to whisper, “Yes.”

“Go. I’ll manage.” Tae doesn’t say anything else. Chihaya falls in love with her just a little bit more for it.

She says a quick goodbye to the patients, who don’t quite grasp what’s going on, but understand that it’s time for her departure. Maybe that’s what fate is, to know that something needs to happen even though you can’t comprehend the reasons behind it.

Maybe that's why Chihaya doesn’t look back when she leaves.

☽

She holds _Death_ in her hands. It’s been a week, and she finally feels ready to talk about it. 

“So, that was what you wanted to show me?”

Chihaya has never been able to speak directly to the cards, but she likes to imagine being able to. She should probably close up shop soon, before it gets really cold. The peaceful solitude along the street makes her idle for awhile longer. Now that winter has set in, there are less passersby walking out so late at night. Most people are at home keeping warm. For once, Chihaya lets herself imagine how nice it would be to have company through the winter, without feeling guilty. She’s still trying not to be so hard on herself, to not be so unkind.

She stares at the card in her hands and can’t help but feel like there is more to it. Before she can ask the card, she hears footsteps approaching. Hands covered in black wool and studs touch the table cloth, and then, a casual request:  

“Can I get a reading?”

Even though it’s only been a week, the sound of Tae’s voice makes Chihaya realise how she’d been longing to meet her again. She brushes the hair out of her eyes and looks across the table to Tae, who’s sat herself down. She wants to say that she’d foreseen this days ago, but truthfully, it’s more like she’d hoped that this would happen. Chihaya swallows, shifts her feet together nervously, and can’t come up with anything better to say than, “Tae-san. What are you doing here? H-how did you find me?”

Tae shrugs. “It was pretty easy. Not so many fortune-tellers around Shinjuku, it seems. And I came to give you your Christmas present, and to get a reading, of course.”

“You didn’t need to return the favour,” Chihaya says, lowering her eyes to her hands in her lap. Despite her words, she wants to thank the gloves for letting them meet again.  

Tae slides the small, gift-wrapped box across the table and says, “I’m not. I wanted to see you again.”

The Tae she knew a month ago wouldn’t have said something so brazenly without appending a ‘just kidding’ behind it. But the punchline never comes, and Chihaya stows the gift away in her bag, shuffles her tarot card and tries not to overthink things again. She decides to do a standard three card spread, not quite sure what Tae wants to search for. Usually, she would ask her clients to tell her, but this is no usual situation.

“Think of your question when you touch the cards,” Chihaya tells Tae as she hands her the deck to shuffle and cut.

The tarot cards were bigger than playing cards, and Chihaya could see that Tae did not have experience handling them from the way she shuffled the cards. After shuffling to her satisfaction, Tae pinches only a handful of cards from the deck and sets them aside. Following Chihaya’s instructions, she picks out three cards from the remaining stack and lays them out in a row. 

Chihaya flips them over one by one.

 _Death._  

_Wheel of Fortune._

_The Lovers._

“There are multiple readings to each card, but I will read what comes to me clearest,” Chihaya explains, gestures to Death, and lets her intuition take over. “This indicates a significant transformation in yourself, brought about by an end to one phase of your life. In many ways, it speaks of new, valuable beginnings.”

“The Wheel of Fortune is telling you to take action. Of course, it also reminds us of the inevitability of certain threads of fate. I like to tell my clients that fate isn’t set in stone, that we can adapt to whatever it throws at us.”

“The Lovers…” Chihaya’s hand floats over the card. The vision is foggy at best, and her fingers tingle with nervousness. “I can’t quite see it, but… it’s saying that you’ve become clearer, more certain in what you believe in. There’s a valuable choice ahead of you, and you need to make it carefully.”

Chihaya assesses the spread for a while more, trying to make sense of it. When she looks up, Tae's downcast eyes and the puff of warm air from a soft exhale make Chihaya forget who she is for a brief moment. They aren’t fortune-teller and client, or even ex-colleagues. They are just two lonely women, sitting on the roadside in Shijunku on a cold winter night, doing foolish things with their hearts.

Somehow, Chihaya can’t find it in herself to feel sad.

“… I think I need to do a re-reading,” she finally says. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t giving it my full concentration just now.”

“No, don’t.” Tae straightens her posture and uncrosses her legs. “This is the first reading I’ve ever gotten. As generic as it was, it was from you. It’s special to me. Wouldn’t want to cancel it out.” Tae chuckles when she catches Chihaya’s eyebrow twitching with annoyance.

“Generic? It’s because I didn’t know the question!” Chihaya fumes, and feels the tension around them lighten. “Come on, let’s do this again, for real. I’ll give you the most specific prediction ever.”

“I was just kidding!” Tae snaps, exasperated and amused and beautiful. “And I was asking about myself, what I should do right now.”

“Well, I hope I was able to help.” Chihaya sweeps the cards back up into her hand. At least she’d been able to do this one thing for Tae before they part ways again.

She stops herself at this thought. She could do more than just a standard reading for the woman sitting opposite her; she owes her more than that, and so the words come out before she has time to hesitate. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you who I was.

Tae cocks her head to the side, apparently unmoved by Chihaya’s meaningful apology. “I kind of knew from the start. It was Rio Iwasaki who confirmed it, though. She let your secret out in the examination room, when I told her she’d be alright to play volleyball. Said it was all because of your prediction,” she reveals this in the most nonchalant way.  

Chihaya’s jaw drops. “Why… why didn’t y’tell me! I was so gosh darn broken over it and I thought you’d never forgive me! I thought you weren’t ever gon’ speak to me again! Of all the stunts you pull jus’ to see me squirm, this has got to be the lowest of the low! It ain’t funny at all, Tae! That was in summer! Summer! You waited till Christmas t’tell me you knew? After I’ve been sufferin’ since April? You’re a horrible, horrible person, y’know that?”

In the wake of her emotional tirade, which draws looks from two men staggering by, Tae bursts into uncontrollable laughter, and the sound is like music to Chihaya’s ears. She’s never seen Tae laugh so loud before, and that is enough to make her less upset. Lowering her arms back down, she lets out a gigantic sigh. “I guess we weren’t entirely truthful with each other.”  
  
Tae, whose shoulders are still quivering, shakes her head. “No. You were honest with me. From the very start. That was probably what convinced me to take you on.”

“I was?” Chihaya says with confusion, not sure if they’ve been having the same conversations.

“You were. Even if you don’t think so,” Tae says, her words still tinted with laughter. She blinks the tears out of her eyes and looks at Chihaya. “And it was your honest words last week that helped me make a decision. I was holding myself back because I didn’t think I was suited to be a GP, to be seen as a doctor who looks out for others. My past, the things I’ve done—I’d come to believe that I didn’t deserve to be seen that way.”

“You’re one of the kindest people I know,” Chihaya confesses, her voice softer now. She digs her heels into the pavement as she holds Tae’s gaze. “I… I spent the longest time convincing myself that I would be alright being alone, that I would get used to it, that I wasn’t allowed to rely on someone else. I lost sight of that when I was with you. I felt happy when I was working at the clinic, and that was why I had to leave.”

“It’s not about whether or not you deserve happiness,” Tae starts to say, lowering her gaze to her hands. “Happiness just finds you now and again, whether you like it or not.”

Chihaya thinks she understands that now. The strength of that knowledge makes her brave enough to ask, “Then, can we start again? From the top. No more white lies or convenient omissions.”

Tae nods, a smile spreading across her lips.  

Chihaya holds an empty hand out to her. “I’m Chihaya. The fortune-teller who guides fate.”

“I’m Tae. Yongenjaya’s humble town doctor.”

 Her hand is warm and firm, and Chihaya doesn’t want to let go just yet. She doesn’t know what to say to make it less awkward. She thinks to ask, “Do you believe in fate?” but instead, it comes out as, “Do you like me, too?”

Chihaya immediately shuts her eyes, too afraid to see Tae’s reaction. The doctor doesn’t say anything at first. Chihaya wonders if she’s gone and done it again, and nearly jolts out of her seat when she feels a hand tucking her hair behind her ear. Tae’s hand weaves its way through her hair as if it were delicate silk, ignoring the dead knots and frizzy texture.

“I’ve always needed someone who could see through me,” is all Tae says out loud.

“You’ve always been so indirect, I don’t know what you’re thinking,” Chihaya mumbles.

Tae grins. “Work on your skills, psychic. That’s why we go together.”

Her hand, behind Chihaya’s head, begins to pull her closer across the table. The faint cracks in Tae’s lipstick are the last thing she sees before she closes her eyes. She lets herself remember that feeling that she’d kept locked away in her chest, and the taste of red bean.  

As cold and unforgiving as the winter will be, Chihaya thinks that she’ll survive.

**end**

○

After another uneventful day of house-hunting, they decide to have dinner at a monjayaki place in Tsukishima. Chihaya peels off her new pair of leather gloves as they squeeze into a small table near the back corner of the packed restaurant.

Tae flips through the menu and says offhandedly, “I've been here once before, with your predecessor. This one’s not bad.” She points to an item on the menu, but Chihaya isn’t paying attention to that anymore.

“You had a part-timer before me?” she asks.

“Yeah. You could call him that. He was a high-schooler who was too nosy for his own good, but he ended up helping me out of a pinch,” Tae explains, now scanning the drinks menu.

Chihaya feels a tug, and she can’t help but narrow her eyes. “Did he have messy hair and huge glasses?”

“Yeah. How’d you know?"

Chihaya doesn’t know where to begin. The only thing she knows for sure is that fate has always had a way of besting her.


End file.
